


Tobit 12:15

by keraunoscopia



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Family Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 18:27:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12393669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keraunoscopia/pseuds/keraunoscopia
Summary: Sonny Carisi disappears every Wednesday afternoon. Nobody seems to know where he's going, but Rafael is dying to find out.





	Tobit 12:15

**Author's Note:**

> My Italian sucks, I made an attempt based on what my own grandmother says and google translate. Any mistakes are purely my own incompetence.

Sonny disappears every Wednesday. Sometimes its for an hour, sometimes more. He never ducks his responsibilities, he never misses court, never tells Benson that he can’t go to investigate, but still, he manages to sneak away every week. Amanda and Fin had long since stopped giving it any thought, and had just acknowledged that somehow, he’d figure out a way to take his leave.

Benson doesn’t really care either, as long as he gets his work done and it doesn’t interfere with their cases. They all have personal lives, she’s the first to admit that, and the last one to try to pry. 

Barba doesn’t notice, not at first. He’s observant enough to keep up with the seasoned detectives, but he just doesn’t spend enough time with them to notice. But Sonny requests to shadow him, and Barba would never admit that it was anything but his displeasure, but it strokes his ego anyway. 

Sonny is committed and diligent. He writes the memos Barba requests, he finds the case law when Barba needs it. He files motions and helps with witness prep. But it gives Barba the opportunity to notice how suspiciously absent Sonny is on Wednesday afternoons.

Barba is an intelligent man. He graduated at the top of his class in undergrad, and again at Harvard law. He was the president of trial team and the head editor of law review. He’s more than just book smart though, its his imagination that makes him such an effective attorney. So Barba works his way through hundreds of possibilities every Wednesday, when confronted with Sonny’s absence. Maybe it’s a date night, he thinks first, maybe something with one of his sisters. Maybe he’s sick and its some sort of medical treatment. Maybe he has a secret child. Maybe he works for the NSA. Maybe he works for a foreign government…

Barba pauses on that particular hypothetical, because the idea of gangly, radiantly dorky Sonny as a foreign spy is hilarious, and he’s the last person Barba would ever think of in that role. Though, too, that would certainly be an effective trait for a spy to have… he shakes his head and moves on. At some point, Barba knows that his curiosity will get the best of him. Its an insatiable thing really, he hates not having all of the answers. But they all tease Sonny so much about his oversharing that Barba doesn’t want to admit that he wants to know more about the younger man. 

Well, there are a lot of things Rafael Barba wont admit when it comes to the bright eyed Italian.

It’s a brisk November Wednesday morning when Rafael’s car breaks down. He doesn’t usually drive, but he hates taxis in the morning, still ripe with the smell of last night’s trashy party girl vomit, and his driver from the town car service has been sick with the flu for the past week. Not to mention that the incredibly expensive Italian fabric of his hand tailored suits will never touch the plastic seats of a subway. 

He gets to work looking more pissed off than usual, and Carmen can practically see the smoke coming out of his ears. He’s on his third pot of coffee when Sonny shows up at noon. Barba had forgotten that he asked him to meet to go over one of the memos Sonny had written last week. 

“Man, you look rough,” Sonny comments with a smile as he takes in the sight of Rafael, with his suit jacket draped over his chair, sleeves rolled up haphazardly, and his hands practically shaking from the caffeine intake (probably bordering on overdose.)

Barba rolls his eyes and ignores the comment. He can’t seem to muster up a snippy reply but Sonny doesn’t mention that. They start working through the memo, and the case law. He’s an excellent teacher though he’d never admit how much he likes imparting wisdom on people. He knows how to coax Sonny through the difficulties of the cases without giving him the answers, allows him to see the connections for himself rather than telling him what to do. Sonny knows exactly how lucky he is to have this sort of one on one attention from an attorney of Barba’s caliber. None of his classmates could even dream of an opportunity like this one. 

With a blink, its six o’clock and Barba starts rubbing his temples. “I hate to ask,” he caveats before beginning, as he checks the heavy watch on his wrist, “but is there anyway you could drive me to the mechanic on third to pick up my car?”

The smirk on Sonny’s face is equal parts infuriating and adorable. 

“You, Rafael Barba, need something from lil ‘ole me?” Of course he’s gloating. Barba’s not sure why he would have expected anything else. 

He rolls his eyes “never mind, I’ll call a cab.” 

Sonny starts back peddling immediately, he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to spend time one on one with Barba without work in the way. “No no, I gotcha, as long as you don’t need ta’ be there right this minute,” Sonny checked his watch. 

“The shop closes at eight,” is Barba’s only response, and Sonny seems to contemplate this for a minute. 

“I’ll tell ya what. I’ve got a couple errands to run, but they’re more on the way to third than here. So come with me and I can drop you off before eight.” 

Barba sighs but starts rolling down his sleeves. He agrees reluctantly, though he can’t help but wonder if this means he’s going to find out where Sonny ventures off to every Wednesday, because its only just occurred to him that Sonny hasn’t had a chance to duck out yet, and its still Wednesday.

Barba bristles as he climbs into Sonny’s car, he’s glad its not one of the squad cars, but its still not exactly to his tastes, ten years old at least, rust curling around the bottoms no doubt from the harsh winter rock salt. The inside is clean at least, he observes, and smells remarkably like the detective, though Barba’s not exactly sure when he determined what Sonny smelled like. He lets his leather bag fall to his feet, still stuffed with case files that he plans to go over tonight. “So where do you have to go?” Barba asks, watching Sonny fiddle with the radio before landing on a classic rock station. Not what he would have picked, but not intolerable either. 

“Just a few quick stops,” Sonny replies, non-committal and grinning. Barba is almost certain the grin is just permanently glued to Sonny’s face, there’s no other explanation for why he always seems to be so happy. 

They end up at a little market, which is exactly not what Barba expected, but he follows Sonny around with sheer curiosity as the tall detective picks out a loaf of Italian bread, tomatoes, some cheese and milk, and butcher paper packages of cured meats tied with twine. Sonny offers no explanation as he pays the cashier, and Barba is even more intrigued, because he’s certain that Sonny wouldn’t have dragged him all the way here just to do some grocery shopping- not with the amount of take out the man eats. 

Their second stop is a detour away from the direction of the mechanic, so Barba knows his suspicion is right at least, that there’s something more going on. It’s a flower shop, and Sonny tells Barba he can wait in the car because he’s just going to be a moment. When he returns, he has several bouquets of flowers, lilies and sunflowers and alestroemeria. He places them gently in the back seat next to the brown paper bag full of groceries and Barba is even more confused. 

The last stop, or what Barba assumes is the last stop, because its already nearly seven, is an assisted living facility. He recognizes the name, knows that its not one of the cheaper, state facilities, and Barba thinks he understands what’s going on now. “Do you wanna come up?” Sonny asks as he parks his car on the street and pulls the flowers and grocery bags out of the back. 

“Do you want me to?” Barba isn’t sure why his response is as nice as it is, but probably, its his curiosity getting the better of him, he doesn’t want Sonny to say no. 

“Well, I’ll probably be more than a few minutes, so you don’t have to wait in the car.” Sonny smiles, and leads Barba into the building. The attendant at the desk, a young, innocent looking woman smiles and waves at Sonny, clearly smitten and Barba can’t exactly blame her. They take the elevator up to the fourteenth floor. Sonny knocks on a door but doesn’t bother to wait for an answer before opening it and stepping inside. 

“Buongiorno Nonna,” he calls into the little studio apartment. 

“Buongiorno!” A tiny elderly woman calls from a recliner in front of the television. There’s a game show on, wheel-of-fortune or something, and the woman’s hands are still moving a mile a minute as a crochet hook weaves in and out of yarn. “Mio nipote preferito!” She practically sings with excitement, setting down the delicate lace she was crocheting and gets up from the recliner. 

“Nonna, non ti preoccupare,” Sonny waves to her, but its clearly a moot point as the elderly woman shuffles over to to them. He sets down the groceries and starts collecting the vases around the room. There’s flowers already in them, just starting to wilt. 

“Bambino, who is this?” she asks, her accent heavy on her tongue, just a little out of breath from the walk over to them, but Barba can already tell that she’s got to have the stubbornness to match any Cuban grandmother as well. 

“Nonna, this is my friend from work, Rafael, I’m bringing him to pick up his car so I figured he could tag along. This is my grandmother,” The last bit he addresses to Barba, though he’s figured that out already. “How are you feeling?” He asks, dropping a kiss on her cheek before turning back to fill the vases with fresh water, arranging the new flowers in each. 

“Oh hush, Bambino, I am fine, no need ta fuss,” she takes Rafael’s hand, “come child, have a sit,” she leads Barba over to the couch without giving him a chance to refuse. 

“Nonna, you know the doctors said you had to take it easy. You’ve been taking your medicine, right? Don’t make me call the nurse every day to make sure,” he warns, but his tone is still teasing, loving. This was not where Barba had expected to end up today, but even as cold hearted as he seems, he can’t deny how endearing it is watching their interactions. Sonny returns the flower vases to their spots, and the room definitely looks brighter, cheerier, and then he begins unpacking the groceries. 

“Bambino, I am fine, I take the medicines, the nurses poke and prod.” She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Aren’t you a handsome man,” the comment is directed at Barba, and it takes him by surprise. “Are you married?”

Sonny rolls his eyes. “Nonna, stop hitting on my friends.” He chastises but Barba can hear the smile from across the room, even though Sonny’s back is still turned, putting the milk and cheese and meat into the fridge. “I got you that burrata you like, and the prosciutto from the little market, Scime’s, not that place down the street.” He walks over to the living area and drops into an arm chair, his long legs sprawling out in front of him. His grandmother looks so pleased, and really, Barba’s not that surprised that Sonny is such a grandma’s boy.

“No, I’m not married,” Barba adds, not sure what else to say, and the elderly woman gives him a grin. Now at least, Barba knows where Sonny get’s that damned grin.

“Ah such a shame, a handsome, well dressed man like you, surely women and men are falling all over you, bello.” Barba can see Sonny metaphorically face palming. They all suspected that Sonny didn’t identify as straight, he was a little too comfortable with playing the gay undercover roles to strike them as straight, and not that his grandmother had said as much, Barba was versed enough in Abuela-speak to get the hint. 

“Nonna,” Sonny cuts her off with a look of disapproval, though he clearly can’t stay mad for long. “We can’t stay too long, we gotta get Rafael to the shop before it closes,” he adds. 

“Do not dally on my account,” she waves. “I’m notta going anywhere.” Sonny checks his watch with a nod and stands up from the chair. 

“I’ll try to make it back this weekend, Nonna, but you know how work gets.” He leans down to give her a hug, not wanting her to get back up from her chair. 

She cups his cheeks, planting a kiss on his forehead. “You’re so good to me, Bambino,” she smiles broadly, “but you need to eat more, so skinny. All of that law work is stretching you too thin,” she means it literally and figuratively.

“Yeah yeah, Nonna, you know I’ve always been’a bean pole.” Sonny’s laugh radiates warmth, and Rafael swears he can feel it in his soul. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” She nods in agreement. 

“It was such a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am,” Barba adds as he stands up from the couch. 

“You as well, Bello. Take care of my Sonny, okay?” She’s got a knowing look on her face, but Sonny just scowls at the comment. 

They don’t exchange any other words on the way down the elevator, or through the lobby to outside. The sun has already set, and Sonny clicks the lock button on his keychain to find where he parked the car. They both settle in and Rafael gives him the address of the mechanic’s shop his car as at. The silence persists as they pull away from the curb, and Barba doesn’t know why he’s compelled to break it, he of all people can appreciate silence, but right now its heavy, oppressive. “Your grandmother seems… accepting.” At face value the comment seems innocuous enough, but Sonny knows better than that. 

“Yeah, she’s the greatest, her and my grandfather were the most open minded Italian Catholics I ever had the pleasure of knowing.” Sonny responds. He has both hands on the wheel, knuckles whitening just enough for Barba to notice it from street light to street light. 

“My grandmother eventually came around, towards the end,” the words are out of Barba’s mouth before he even realizes what he’s saying, and he immediately wants to shove it back in, sew up his lips and forget that this day ever happened. 

Sonny takes the disclosure in stride though, much more sensitive of Rafael’s emotional reservations than he expected. “Yeah?” There’s no real expectation for Barba to continue to share, Sonny wouldn’t expect that from him, but he leaves the door open enough. 

Rafael lets the silence hang there for a while. “We were close, she had a hard time accepting the fact that her beloved God was telling her that her favorite Grandson was going to hell.” He finally adds, confirming what Sonny suspected. “She managed to reconcile that before she died though.”

Sonny pulls into the mechanic parking lot, cursing Manhattan traffic for not being bad the one day that he actually wants it to be. “Yeah, I think my grandmother just sorta figured that the book was written by men, and men make mistakes, because there was no way her darling, favorite grandson could possibly be doomed to the second circle of Dante’s Inferno.” He puts the car in park and looks over at Barba-Rafael. 

“Thank you for the ride,” Barba almost gives him an actual smile. 

“Anytime, Rafael.” And Sonny can’t help but think of the archangel.

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't get stuck in Sunday school every week, Tobit 12:15 is a biblical reference to the archangel Raphael. After returning and healing the blind Tobit, Azarias makes himself known as "the angel Raphael, one of the seven, who stand before the Lord." 
> 
> Its not Beta-ed and I'm sorry about that. I'm sitting in my Corporations Law class bored to death and just wanted to bang this out.


End file.
